After the Question Mark
by Animorphgirl
Summary: Season two Skate. Takes place right after Ana and Libby's deaths. What happened after Sawyer confronted a distraught Kate. Oneshot. Please read and review!


Kate hadn't intended to fall asleep, just like she hadn't intended to start crying. She used to consider herself beyond that. Or at least strong enough to keep her feelings inside. The marshal had called her cold, and even though Kate knew that she wasn't the killing machine he had made her out to be, she also wasn't the kind of girl who broke into tears at any little thing.

It wasn't like she had even known Ana Lucia or Libby very well. Ana Lucia had been an outsider, the leader of the tail section of the plane, but not the kind of leader Jack was. She was the kind of person who scared people into doing what they wanted because they were unsure if the unknown was worse than getting her angry and really, as long as obeying Ana Lucia kept them on her good side, keeping the Others away from them was just another perk. Because Ana was as scary as ten Others combined and no one really wanted to mess with her. Because being killed by her would be a lot worse than just going missing.

Probably.

Kate had to respect Ana because she got people to do what she wanted them to do. In the end, respect came from power and power came from respect. As long as people were listening to you, it didn't matter which came first. Just as long as both were present enough to keep them from going against you.

As for Libby…she had just been this sweet girl on the tail end of the plane. Traumatized, sure, but weren't they all? The fact that she liked Hurley added to Kate's opinion of her because as nice as Hurley could be, he had serious self esteem issues that having a girlfriend could fix. And she was glad that he and Libby seemed to like each other because at least that was one good thing that had happened in the last few weeks.

That and Sawyer returning, but Kate hadn't wanted to think too much about that and what it implied. Because it meant that their rescue plan had failed, that they were probably trapped on the island for good, but hey, at least the handsome con artist who gave people crazy nicknames wasn't dead from a bullet wound.

But Henry had escaped and everyone was sure that he was an Other. He had shot Ana and Libby, which was more proof that the Others were up to no good. As though their taking Walt hadn't been proof enough. As though their taking the majority of the people on the tail section of the plane hadn't been proof enough.

Maybe Ana deserved more credit for being a dictator to her group. After all, hadn't she kept them safe?

Had. Past tense. She was dead now. With Libby. Whose actions were not questionable, who was probably one of the few truly innocent people on the island, but who the island or the Others or Henry or God or whoever decided to take. For apparently no reason.

Crushing Hurley. Angering Jack. Further hurting Michael, who had enough problems with having lost his son and not being able to contain Henry. Because Michael had to believe, to some extent, that these new deaths were his fault.

Kate knew what that felt like.

She didn't want Sawyer to come over to her on the couch. Didn't want to see his eyes turn understanding. She would have rather he made a sarcastic comment so that she could laugh, albeit guiltily, or be able to turn away in self righteous disgust. Because Kate thought that she could handle that better than his sympathy.

After all, who was she to be upset about these new casualties? It wasn't like she had known them. It made sense for Hurley to grieve. It made sense for Michael to grow colder, more distant, as the reality of everything sank in.

It didn't make sense that she was so upset about everything. Hadn't she seen death before? Hadn't she caused it? Ana and Libby hadn't really been part of her group. "Live together die alone" didn't fully apply to them yet because they were still figuring out where they stood.

Ana more than Libby.

It hurt to see Libby be aware for a few minutes before she died. At least Jack had been able to calm her, tell her that Michael had escaped. Sure, the Other had also escaped and killed their leader, but at least he hadn't killed Michael. Their group had just abducted his only son. No big deal. Happens all the time.

Kate wasn't sentimental. Not really. She wasn't overly emotional. But she couldn't help herself from crying, away from everyone else, hoping that no one would see yet staying near enough to the action that if Jack _had_ seen, had maybe wanted to come over and give her a hug, that he could have done so. But Jack had been busy with Hurley, which was completely understandable, and instead Kate got stuck with Sawyer.

She turned away at first because she didn't want it. But then, as Sawyer made her acknowledge him with his arm around her shoulder—and then more—she knew that he understood her a lot more than she wanted to admit. He hadn't known Ana or Libby very well but he felt grief over their deaths. He felt anger at the injustices.

So he held her and instead of trying to walk away, Kate let herself collapse into his arms and felt herself wrapping her arms around his.

Kate only wanted to stay there for a few minutes. By then, Sawyer's normal sarcastic self would return and he'd realize that he was comforting the one person who didn't deserve comfort, stand up, and walk away. Then she'd have to stand up, tell Jack that she was ready to do whatever he wanted, and they would try another surprise attack on the Others which would fail.

Instead, Kate found herself relaxing in Sawyer's arms. Eyes closing as his hands played with her hair. She hadn't washed it in days and she was sure that she smelled but none of that seemed to matter to him. He just held her as though she meant something to him, as though he needed the comfort of being with her as much as she needed his right then. She heard his murmurings, his mantras of "shh it's okay" and "hey, come here" and "shh".

When her eyes closed, she expected it to be momentary. She was just trying to reorient herself. Her eyes burned from all the crying. She'd get up in a few minutes, right before Sawyer left her. Right before he saw just how weak she was.

Instead, she found herself growing more comfortable in the con artist's arms. Her head leaning back against his chest, covered by a soft shirt. Wondering, even as she knew it was neither the time nor place nor person, what it would feel like if he hadn't been wearing the shirt. Would his chest hair tickle her or would it feel soft against her skin? Would he feel like Kevin had, the night before they got married, or more like the other jerks she had dated? Would it feel right, the way it had with Tom?

She felt guilty for thinking these things and tried to sit up, but either Sawyer wouldn't let her sit up or the lack of sleep was catching up with her, because she couldn't seem to move.

She shut her eyes again and breathed in the scent of Sawyer without actually intending to. Felt so comfortable that she knew she wouldn't be able to move away from him unless he moved first. And being scared, terrified even, of this even as sleep overpowered her.

He was still there when she woke up. The beeping had begun again so Kate figured she must have slept for over an hour. But when she tried to get up, she realized that Sawyer had fallen asleep too. She tried to disentangle herself from him, to punch in the code before the noise grew loud enough to wake the dead. He muttered something that she couldn't understand and gingerly moved to the room with the computer. Punched in the code.

Then she returned to Sawyer, who was still sleeping. She was still tired. Cautiously, she sat down next to him, and felt his hand reach for hers. Silently, she huddled against him again and his arms moved around hers. He woke up for a minute, stretched and yawned, and then fell back asleep. A few minutes later, so did she.

When she woke up for the second time, she found that a blanket had been wrapped around her and a plate of eggs were sitting in front of her. Or, to be more accurate, Sawyer was sitting across from her on the table, holding one plate of eggs. Another empty plate sat next to him. Right next to the statue of the Virgin Mary.

"You hungry, Freckles?" he asked, as he saw her looking at them. She nodded wordlessly and he handed her the plate. Watched her eat slowly and mechanically. Then took a seat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. Placed the plate and the fork back on the table once Kate had eaten every visible bite. Took her in his arms again.

Kate didn't resist this time. She knew she was safe.


End file.
